


A Cloth Over a Birdcage

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Beating, Brotherly Love, Captivity, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Medicinal Drug Use, Mental Breakdown, Morphine, Pain, Past Character Death, Rescue, Self-Doubt, Self-Worth Issues, Starvation, Therapy, Torture, background joyfire, dickie is high on morphine, ish, jason is a big softie for his big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Dick remembers a similar time, a little Robin in green pixie shorts, a head full of determination and dead circus patents, captured by a clown with a face-splitting grin.He deserves to rot there in his cage, but he was saved by the least expected person Dick could think of.Batman was supposed to always be there for his Robins, always there to save them. Batman's arrival, he would understand.But not him.





	A Cloth Over a Birdcage

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea while doing the GAT and this was a line in one of the topics. I thought it would be a great fic and I hoped it turned out well. 
> 
> I need more Jason & Dick brotherly love!!

Once, years ago, Dick woke up with a rope tied around his arms, a gag covering his mouth and his shoulder burning from lying on his side for who knows how long. He was in a cage, a small rounded one with thin metal bars- too thick for him to pull and too close together for him to slip through but thin enough and apart enough for Batman to break- and after realising he wasn’t blindfolded, he saw the bloodied curtain hanging over it, blocking out any light as the familiar scent twanged at his nose.

From his place on the cage floor, Dick could hear the manic laughter of the Joker as he cackled from the room next door. He didn’t even know how he got there, but his joints were aching and his bones felt like they were vibrating in their sockets. He didn’t dare panic though, he knew Batman was coming for him, wouldn’t let anything happen to Robin if he could help it.

Dick wasn’t sure how long he was there for, but once the laughter died down and the curtain was ripped off of the cage, he saw Batman, come to save him just like Dick knew he would. He had been lifted into Batman’s arms and carried away across rooftops until the sound of approaching police sirens faded into silence.

Bruce had dropped him on the roof, holding him close and burrowing his face into Dick’s neck, making sure he was alright and apologizing that he had let him be captured.

When Jason had been taken by the Joker many years later, beaten with a crowbar and blown up in a ball of fire with the building, Dick was so sure that Batman would get to him in time, because Batman always gets to his Robin, right?

Entering the Wayne Manor without a loud hello from Jason and a tackling hug into the couch was like a kick to the gut. Entering the cave was even worse, Jason’s Robin suit already on display by the time Dick had arrived, no crude jokes and laughter as he bounded across the stone.

He had wanted to kill the Joker, that night. Almost wanted to kill _Bruce_ , for not getting to Jason when he needed him most, for breaking his promise- his oath, for not telling Dick until it was too late for Dick to do anything and instead broke the news over the phone, not even telling him what had happened.

Dick tried not to think about Jason that night. Tried not to think about how scared he must have been when knew realized that no one was coming for him. That he was all alone with a psycho with a crowbar and his mother crying in a corner and a bomb ticking down to his impending doom. That he realized he was going to die. That Batman wasn’t there to save him. That he was never going to see Alfred or Bruce or Dick or any of his other friends again.

Even now, Dick still thinks back to his time in the tiny cage- a birdcage he realizes now, a birdcage for the robin- and although it was years ago, he couldn’t help laugh at the similarities.

Lying on his back with his arms cuffed behind him, blood pouring past the knives embedded in his skin, one eye closed and puffy, blood dripping from his lips, body shaking from days in the cold without food or water, Dick stared up at the bird cage he was in, the large cloth, while not smelling of blood, was the same colour and make as Batman’s cape as it dapped around the cage and onto the floor like the curtains in his room in Wayne Manor.

The Joker was laughing in the other room, but this time he wasn’t alone, there were deeper voices and many pairs of footsteps pacing back and forth. Dick could hear the ticking of the timer in the distance, wondered if Jason had counted down as he was doing, _224, 225, 226._

Because no, Batman was not coming for him, not this time. He was too far away, too distracted when it had happened. No, he wasn’t coming, Dick was on his own and the thought left a heavy, cold stone of fear in his chest.

He had fallen asleep sometime, once he had lost count of the methodical sound of the bomb, and had woken up on the floor, the Joker laughing over him, a baseball bat held tightly in his hands and lights blaring painfully into his eyes.

He thought he could hear Oswald and Edward somewhere behind him, Penguin laughing and Riddler criticizing Joker’s technique in a voice that made Dick’s toes numb. They weren’t supposed to be there, why were they there? Dick had shoved their asses into an Arkham cell the night before and no matter how good Joker was, there was no way he could have gotten them out so quickly.

And then the bat came down, and Dick suddenly remembered the look Jason would get on his face when he would see a crowbar lying on the street, or on a rack in the cave or in the hands of a crook, and he completely understood.

“Isn’t it _funny_?” Joker had asked, leaning so close to Dick that they were almost nose to nose. “Isn’t it _ironic_? Batman’s little brat being beaten by a _bat_! Get it?” He cackled, and his grin almost seemed to grow wider. “I never did manage to break you, you know? Jason, I got him first, yes, he died easily, never even put up a fuss. Then Timbo, ohhhhh Timbo, he was sweet, I _loved_ that. Barbara? Gordons girl? That was _sweeter_. The noise she made when she hit the floor _ohhhh_ it was music to my _ears_! And then the ‘born son’ died and I was so proud and I don’t even remember what had happened! And all along, I broke the batman. Every!” _Crack_ “Damn!” _Crack_ “Time!” _Crack_.

Dick looked him in the eye and spat in his face.

The Joker sat back up, whipping his face with the back of his free hand, eyeing Dick from his place on the floor with a wicked grin. He seemed to always be smiling. “Just like Jason,” it was low and menacing and Dick felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest, both from fear and anger. “You know, I always hated you most. I never could break you. Now, that bomb has 2 hours left. I wonder how complete your body would be with your insides splattered on the walls? _HA_! Let’s see if you have any more similarities with Jason, hey?”

The next thing Dick knew, the bat was being driven down into his face and then he knew nothing at all as cold-burning blackness encased his vision.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the cloth of his cage being removed, scuffed black metalic boots shifting against the concrete flooring, now red and slick with his blood. He opened them again, and he was looking up at the Gotham skyline, the lights in the buildings twinkling at him from the darkness. Then he was looking up at the wooden roof of Wayne Manor, with its long, dangling crystal chandelier that Dick used to love swinging on as a child. Instantly it was high, dark rocky walls and the beeping of computers mixed in with the chirping of bats above him. Someone called his name.

The last time his eyes opened, they stayed opened, with his body aching and burning and thrumming in pain. He gasped at the celling and Dick recognised the roof of his room in Wayne Manor, the loose plank from where he had hidden in the celling, the horizontal bars Bruce had helped him drill in when he first arrived so he could continue to practice his acrobatics after the circus, the glue tacks from all the revision he had posted on his roof to remember for exams, the spilled coffee from when he had dropped his favourite mug and the contents sloshed so high it hit the celling. 

Dick could feel broken bones shifting under his skin, bruises forming like leylines, his eye puffy and forced closed, his breathing coming in painful, ragged gasps and the puncture wounds from where the knives sat in his skin throbbed and were bandaged in white medical tape.

When his door opened, Dick sluggishly turned his head to see the man who’d silently stepped in. “Alfred?” He croaked, his throat raw and itchy. Alfred snapped his head to Dick and relief flooded his features.

“Oh, Master Richard, I am so glad to see you finally awake.” Alfred dropped the bundle of blankets he was holding and walked closer to Dick, gently smoothing his hair away from his face. “We we’re all so worried about you. You gave us quite a scare.” His voice was shaking and was heavy with gratitude.

“How long was I out?” Dick asked, glaring at the IV pole and the long tubes stuck into his arm.

Alfred looked at his wristwatch. “In 7 hours it would have been 13 days, Master Richard.”

Dick almost shot straight up from his bed, one eye bugged wide as he stared at Alfred in shock. “Two weeks?” He asked in disbelief. “Alfred, why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

“We did try. You were unresponsive and it was Master Timothy who suggested moving you here instead of leaving you down in the cave.”

Sighing, Dick raised a shaking hand up to rub his face, mindful of the cords and wires sticking out of his skin. “And how long was I gone?”

It was only after silently picking up the blankets again and placing them on a chair by the window, re-arranging Dick’s sheets and checking the IV pole that Alfred spoke, not meeting Dick’s eyes. “Master Bruce says it was almost a month.” A pause. “We didn’t know you had been taken until Mister West came over to inform us that you were not at your apartment in Bludhaven, nor were you anywhere else you should have been.” A hand drifted down to lace his fingers with Dick’s. “We were not sure we would find you in time. It seemed when you arrived that you had not had food for upwards a week and no water for a few days and Bruce said that he didn’t think you would live through the night.” Alfred’s voice was shaking by the end and so was his hands, so Dick gave them a squeeze.

“I thought so.” Dick said, closing his eyes. _It must have been bad, when they brought me home to have Alfred so distressed talking about it to forget using ‘Master’,_ he thought. “It felt like a month. That’s alright, you got me out and now I’m here so we have nothing to worry about.” He opened his eyes and smiled, didn’t speak until Alfred met his eyes with his own. “Give Bruce a thank you for me when you see him, for getting me out in time.”

A small, almost invisible smile threatened to pull Alfred’s lips apart and Dick would have missed it if he wasn’t trained in these things. “To Master Bruce?” there was a soft edge of humour in the butler’s voice. “And what makes you think it was Batman who got you out?”

Confused, Dick followed Alfred’s gaze over to the sleeping form beside him, who was most definitely _not_ Bruce.

There were hundreds of small, long, jagged scars mapping out the whole expanse of skin, branding of the letter “ _J_ ” sporadically placed by them. He had short, messy hair- not Damian short but not Tim long- with a shock of frost white almost painted on the front. Bruce would never be caught dead wearing a bright red muscle tee and most definitely would never get tattoos on his wrist (a sun encasing a gun while both being pierced by and arrow). There was snoring and while yes, Bruce snored, Bruce didn’t drool puddles onto the pillows and his snores never seemed to rattle the windows.

Dick took a moment to look around the room for the first time since waking up. On his bedside table was a red helmet and two pistols lying side by side. On the floor was his bloodied Nightwing uniform but also a brown leather jacket, a black armoured bodysuit with a large red bat displayed on the front, big black boots that would reach mid-calf and a black strap-on hip holster, all lying in a pile.

“Jason,” Dick whispered, gently running his fingers through his brother’s hair. It really was longer than when he had last seen it and he wondered which of his lovers convinced him to grow it out. Probably Roy. “Jason got me-?”

“Yes, Master Richard.” There was love in Alfred’s voice, love for both of them and Dick felt a shiver run down his spine. “He arrived in the cave once he had found you, carrying you as gently as I have ever seen him hold anyone.” He looked at Jason with affection. “He has scarcely left your side since. I dare say he has not spent so much time in the Manor since he was a little boy.”

Dick felt a sharp pang of guilt that was immediately softened by the floating feeling of love. He never took his eyes off him, never stopped his fingers moving gently though his hair. “I will leave you both to talk.” There was a smile to Alfred’s voice as he watched the two eldest boys. “Do not exert yourself too much, and if there is anything you need, Master Bruce has left a bell and instructions-”

“Let me guess,” Dick said with a small laugh, and in his best imitation of Bruce he recited “One ring for food, two for a drink and three for a _real_ drink.”

Alfred chucked, rustling Dick’s hair. “That’s the one.” With a gentle kiss to Dick’s forehead and a soft smile, Alfred left the boys alone.

“Jason,” Dick whispered, gently tugging on the black strands of hair. When he didn’t answer, Dick said it louder. “Jason!” There was still no budge, and Dick thought he would have to do the only thing he was good at- being an annoying older brother.

Coating his pinkie finger in his spit, Dick stuck it inside his brother’s ear as he shouted his name. “ _Jason!_ ”

As though he were stuck by lightning, Jason jumped to action, placing one hand firmly and protectively on Dick’s chest as he snatched a pistol up off of the table and spun around the room, gun following the invisible trail Jason was stalking with his eyes.

Seeing no threat, Jason slowly lowered the gun and his eyes now roamed the room in confusion. His eyes landed on Dick, his one good eye wide open and a shit-eating grin on his face that looked like it might be painful. “Dick.” Jason said quietly, sinking heavily in the chair and dropping his gun to the floor. Dick winced in the anticipation of the loaded round going off, but he realized a second later that Roy was smart enough to modify Jason’s guns so that would never happen, and no loud gunshot came. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, Babybird, I’m awake.” Dick looked Jason up and down, searching for any hidden wounds. When he found none, he relaxed further into the bed. “How are you doing?”

Jason burrowed his head in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re awake.” His voice was muffled until he lifted his face enough to rest his chin on his fists. “Bruce said you wouldn’t and I told him that I would believe him when your damn heart monitor flat lined.”

Dick grinned. “You punched him.” It was almost a question, if Dick didn’t know his brother better than he knew the back of his hand.

Jason scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “’Course I did. He was being an ass.”

Chuckling, Dick tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Jason gave him a moment to himself until Dick turned back to Jason, all humour gone from his eyes. “You got me out?” It was barely a whisper, fearful, disbelieving, worried. “Not Bruce?”

Flinching, Jason stiffened in his chair. “Yeah, well Bruce was too slow.” He snapped, defensive and now it was Dick’s turn to recoil. “So sorry you didn’t get to have _daddy_ save you but I’m what you got, so it’s great that your awake Dick, but I don’t want to spend any more time here and Roy and Kori are waiting for me at home so-” His words came quick, too quick to sound true he knew, too quick to properly mask his hurt.

Jason made to stand up, placing his hands on his thighs but with more speed and strength Jason though he was capable of with recent circumstances, Dick’s hand whipped out from under the covers and fingers wrapped around Jason’s wrist in cable like grip, holding him fast and yanking him down until Jason landed with a _thump_ back in the chair. “Why?” Dick asked, eyes searching his brother's face and voice wavering with confusion, unshed tears building up in the back of his throat. “You don’t even like me. Why did you come?”

Feeling slightly ashamed at his outburst, Jason gently took Dick’s desperately clutching hand in his other, clasping it between his two larger ones, his filled with scars and scrapes while Dick’s was full of calluses from the bars of an acrobatic rig and his escrima sticks. “Oh, Dickie,” he mumbled softly, leaning closer to his brother. “Why would you think that?” A quick glance to the IV pole. “You’re probably just high Dick, Bruce has you on a pretty large dose of morphine. I’ll ask him to lower it for you.”

But Dick was frantically shaking his head, eyes wide and confused. “No no,” it was almost desperate. “It’s not the morphine. You don’t like me Jay. You hate me. Why would you come and save me?” And sure, maybe it was a little bit of the morphine making Dick doubt so badly, but he needed to know, because Dick didn’t deserve it.

“I do like you, Dick?” It was somewhat startled, and Jason knew that his older brother had no qualms about showing his emotions but this was ridiculous. “I always have? What makes you say that?”

Dick looks up at him with something painfully vulnerable drowning the bright blue of his eyes in tears. His voice was a little breathless when he did speak, as though every word caused him pain. “Because I didn’t get to you in time when you needed me most.”

Feeling his breath catch, Jason took one hand away from Dick’s hand and threaded it in brother’s hair, much like what Dick had done for him before. “No, no, Dick, that’s not true at all.” Jason was trying to reassure him but there were already tears falling from Dick’s drug-addled eyes and damn it, Jason wasn’t good at this. “It was Bruce’s fault, not yours, it was never your responsibility-”

Wrong thing to say. Jason cursed as Dick struggled to sit up. “Exactly, it was Bruce’s job. Batman always saves his Robins right?” There was liquid agony in Dick’s eyes and Jason wasn’t entirely sure that it was all from the wounds the morphine hadn’t managed to numb. “He saved me, the first time, but he was too slow to get to you. It’s not fair. You died and I didn’t-”

“Wait, hold up a sec.” Jason placed a stern hand on Dick’s chest, pushing him back down onto the pillows. “Are you jealous because you didn’t _die_?”

“I was always supposed to die first you jerk!” Dick was sobbing now, covering his face in his hands, the tears he was holding back finally falling and pouring out from in-between his fingers. “I’m the oldest, it was always my job to die first and then you died and I wasn’t there and I failed, I failed as a friend, I failed as a hero, I failed as a brother-!”

Jason blinked, shocked at what he was hearing. He knew that this was just the morphine and he shouldn’t be taking advantage of his brother when he was saying things he wouldn’t be saying fully aware of himself, but Jason couldn’t help it and damn it he wasn’t the right person for this. “You think it was your job to die first?” His voice was full of disbelief. “No Dick, we never wanted that. Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you have to protect us. And you didn’t fail. You didn’t fail any of us. Why would you…?” He trailed off, a question on his lips as Dicks eyes poked through his fingers, woeful and full of self-loathing. Jason knew that feeling well.

“I didn’t deserve to be saved.” Dick whispered, staring at Jason like he would agree and leave him in the room alone with his own thoughts and the beeping of the monitors. “Not after what happened to you.”

“Dick-” Jason stared but his brother cut him off.

“I thought about you, you know.” Dick admitted, silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes as he let his hands drop away from his face. It was red and wet. “When I was there. It was the same, Jason. The bomb, the beating, the witnesses, the captivity, the restraints. It was exactly the same. I’m so sorry we didn’t get to you in time.”

“It was never your job,” Jason repeated just as quietly as he lowered himself so he was face to face with his brother. “By that logic, Bruce should have died first but there he is, alive, downstairs.”

“I can’t save anyone Jason,” Dick’s eyes were full of heartbreak and Jason wondered how long he had been keeping these things pent up. “I couldn’t save my parents at the circus, I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t save Barbara, I couldn’t save Tim, I couldn’t save Damian- hell, I can hardly save civilians from an alleyway robbery.”

And Jason knew that somewhere there was truth in that statement, knew that Dick had gotten tentative in his attacks since the Talons, knew that he was going to Barbra’s the night she got shot, knew that Dick was in charge on keeping his eyes firmly on Tim the night the Joker took him, knew that Damian left after a fight with Dick, knew that Dick could identify tempered trapeze wires with a glance if he was paying more attention that night. But Jason also knew that he was spewing bullshit.

“Dick, listen to me.” He said in his best imitation of Batman. “Sure, the others, you fucked up. If that’s what you want to believe, sure, I’ll let you believe it. But there is nothing, and I mean _nothing_ that you could have done to save me that night. I was already dead before the bomb went off. You were across the country with the Teen Titans, which makes it Bruce’s fault I died, alright? I have never hated you for that, never held that against you, understand?”

“But you must hate me for some reason.” Dick was intent on winning this argument. “Maybe something I did?”

“No, Dick, it’s nothing that you did.” 

“Then why are we never around at the same time?” Dick’s voice was like a child’s, full of heartbreak and fear of the unknown. “Why do you avoid me? Why don’t you call? Why do I feel like a failure every time I see your old uniform in its case?”

Jason didn’t have an answer for any of those questions, so he settled for leaning his foreheads against Dick’s and wiping the tears off of his older brothers face. “You’re not a failure Dickie.” He whispered, barely audible over the heart wrenching sounds of Dick’s gasping sobs but by the disbelief in his eyes, Jason knew he had been heard. “Never to me. I think… I think it’s because I’ve always been jealous. I’ve always wanted to impress you but I knew I could never hold up next to you because you were always the perfect soldier, the ‘golden boy’.”

Once those words left Jason’s mouth, Dick shook himself away and pressed his palms into his eyes hard enough that Jason was worried he was going to hurt himself, and a stream of moans left Dick’s mouth. “No no no…” he groaned, feet kicking at the end of the bed in frustration. “Why does everyone say that? I’m not a Golden Boy! I’m the only reason there were more Robins, and even though nobody really gets along with Bruce, he and I have had more fights than anyone else! More than _you_! If I had just stayed Robin you guys wouldn’t have been forced to fight and die and suffer!”

“Dick, you’re being childish.” Jason said, but his heart wasn’t in it. Of _course_ he was being childish, his childhood was taken from him and he was forced to grow up in a life full of fighting and crime and near-death experiences. So here, pumped up on morphine after being captured and beaten by a crazed criminal, of _course_ he was being childish. 

“I never asked for this,” Dick’s eyes were staring blindly at the celing. “I never asked for you guys to go through hell. I never wanted you to be sad and angry. I always wanted a family, one like the carnival but better, but I never wanted my family to hurt because of me.”

Jason didn’t even know what to say, so he placed his forehead against Dick’s as his drug-addled brother poured his heart and soul into his words and his tears for Jason, not having the heart to stop him.

“If I was better, you guys wouldn’t need to fight every night.” Dick’s voice hitched, chocking on thick tears. “I’m the only one who moved out of Gotham to get away from Bruce, so I left you all alone with him. If I was braver, I would have stayed and dealt with him myself.”

“You are brave, Dick?” Jason blinked. “You were up on a trapeze at 8 years old, a superhero at 10 and Nightwing as a teenager. You’re the bravest one of us.”

“I’m still afraid of the roofs of Bludhaven at night because I’m worried I’ll run into Tarantula and she'll pin me down again. I’m afraid that one day I’ll get too angry and hurt someone. I’m afraid that someone might be you. Or Tim. Or Damian. I’m afraid one day I’ll snap and you’ll all hate me. I’m afraid of going to sleep sometimes because I worry that when I wake up I’ll be back in the circus.” His eyes met Jason’s. “I’m afraid you’ll all hate me forever and they’ll be nothing to make up for it.”

“No Dick, you’re better than all of us.” Jason hushed. “We call you the ‘golden boy’ because all our lives we’ve wanted to live up to your legacy. To be as good as you are.”

Dick’s head was shaking almost as badly as his hands and his trembling lips. “I’m an acrobat. I’m not strong like you, I’m not smart like Tim, I’m not talented like Damian, I’m not brave like Bruce. I can flip off a building and twirl in the air. So what?”

“No, Dick, you listen to me.” Jason grabbed Dick’s arm, tight and strong. “We don’t care about any of that. You’re our older brother and we couldn’t care if you had four heads and 60 eyes. You’re still family, no matter what you think of yourself or what you can do.”

“Then why do you all hate me?”

There was that question again, the one Jason didn’t know how to answer, and he sighed. “We don’t hate you Dick. We’re all just struggling to please Bruce and I think… we’re jealous because you never had to. To him, you were always perfect and you never needed to change. I think that we wanted to be as good as you were but because to Bruce you were perfect, we could never compete, so maybe we took it out on you.”

Dick sniffled, dragging a hand across his snot covered face. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice hitching and quivering.

Taking a deep breath, Jason moved the hand on Dick’s arm to clasp his older brother’s smaller hands into his larger ones again, gently placing a kiss on the knuckles. “Dickie, listen.” Jason’s hands were shaking too now, so he squeezed Dick tighter. “You- apart from Roy and Kori- have been the best thing to ever happen to me.” Dick froze, confused. “You really are. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have given up being Robin the first week I started and honestly, I only come to the Manor to see you.”

“No-”

“Dick, if you weren’t here so often, I wouldn’t be here at all. I come because it makes you happy to see me and I didn’t realise how much I needed that until I had it. I care about you, more than the others. Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious. I go home and I’m always talking about what happened that visit, the stupid shit you got up to, the dumb jokes you tell. I’m telling you Dickie, if it weren’t for your love and optimism and god damn laughter, I would have given up the whole superhero business years ago.”

Dick’s eyes were full of hope. “Really? Y-you’re not lying?”

“No Dick. You are the best of us because you keep us sane. You keep us together. So what if we get jealous sometimes? We need you more than you think. You’re our glue, Dickie, we only stick around for you. All of us. So what if Bruce likes you best? I’ve gotten over that because I know that no matter what, you’ll always love me, right?”

“Right,” Dick breathed.

“No matter how many people I killed or how evil I became?” Jason leant forward, eyebrow raised.

“No matter what.”

“Exactly. Tim knows that if he makes a mistake in a calculation that you’ll laugh it off and ruffle his hair. Damian knows that if he screws up a manoeuvre when he’s training that you’ll kiss his forehead and show him how to do it properly. If it weren’t for you Dick, we all would have been a fucking mess. We’re all broken people, Dick, but without you around the edges would hurt so much worse.”

Jason was grateful that Dick had stopped crying, his breathing coming in gasps and his chest rising and falling. “I didn’t know.”

“We will always love you Dick,” Jason reassured. “Even if sometimes you can be a show off, or a prick, or a know-it-all or a-”

“Alright, alright, I get the point.” Dick grumbled with a laugh, eyes falling shut.

Standing, Jason kissed Dick on the forehead and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll let you get some sleep now, Dick. Let Alfred know if you need me. I’ll ask Bruce to check your morphine levels.”

Dick’s eyes were already shut when Jason paused, one leg out the door, and turned back. “Did Alfred tell you that Wally came to your apartment?” He asked. “What was that about?”

“Ah crap, I was supposed to meet up with him for coffee.” Dick sighed. “Could you let him know what happened and that I’ll have to raincheck?”

“Sure thing. Now shut up and get some sleep, you’re stubborner than all of us put together.”

“That’s not even a word, Jason.”

Closing the door behind him, Jason came face to face with a very concerned Alfred. “Oh, Master Jason, I was wondering when you would come out. I have some tea and scones prepared. Is Master Richard alright?”

“He’s feeling better.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his face. “Had a bit of a heart-to-heart, but I think he knows now how much he’s loved.”

Alfred noded in satisfaction, a smile on his face. “That is good news. I am glad the two of you were able to talk. Is there anything else?”

“Not really, but I think I’ll talk to Bruce about the dose of morphine he’s giving Dick. I think it’s too high.”

“A very respectable decision, Master Jason. I am glad to see your brother is in good hands.” Alfred paused, and his voice was hopeful. “I suppose you’ll be leaving for the night…?”

“Actually, Alf,” Jason’s eyes wondered to Dick’s bedroom door, the wood thick and imposing and almost through it to the broken sleeping boy within. “I think I’ll take up your offer of tea and scones. I might spend the night here, make myself useful.  I have the feeling I’ll be sticking around for a little while longer, if you absolutely wouldn't mind?”


End file.
